


Broken Wings

by kireteiru



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Nothing too explicit, diary format, mentioned non-con, mentioned sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kireteiru/pseuds/kireteiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, / Love leaves a memory no one can steal." - an Irish headstone. The Diary of a Sparrow. Commandant x f!Sparrow, side "OMC" x f!Sparrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hero of Strength

27 April 1670 – Chamber of Fate

Ten years. It has been ten long and painful years since Lucien Fairfax murdered my sister in one of the towers of his castle. Ten years since he tried to kill me, too. My faithful dog has never been far from my side since then. Theresa told me that he was the one who led her to me through the streets of Bowerstone. If he had not done that, I have no doubt that I would have joined my sister Rose in death.

I'm not sure how I feel about that. If I was dead, perhaps I would be at peace, but at the same time, Lucien would go unpunished for his deeds.

Theresa left some things in a chest by my caravan to help me along my journey, among them this journal. Books are precious even in modern Albion – I can't imagine how much this must have cost her. She encouraged me to write down my thoughts in this book, so that I will not lose sight of my purpose.

Lucien. Even thinking the name makes my anger rise, and red cloud my vision. Whatever the man intended by my sister's and my deaths that night, I will ensure that I stop him.

I have only just left the Bower Lake Gypsy Camp today, and yet I already feel different. I am different.

All these years I spent growing up next to it, swimming in the waters that surround it, and yet I never imagined what the Bower Lake Tomb might contain – danger and treasure in equal measure. I encountered many giant beetles that had taken up residence in the tomb when people left it centuries ago. There were also many old books, and a handful of precious gems inside, untouched since the time of the Heroes' Guild. I cannot help but feel in awe of my ancestors and what they have built, even though it has fallen into disrepair.

I learned my first Will ability today – Shock, the lightning spell. I have only used it once so far – to activate the Cullis gate in the Chamber of Fate – but I can already tell that I'm going to love using magic. Oh, if Rose could see me now – we bought that music box ten years ago because the trader said it was magic, and now I'm using _real_ magic.

I'm still inside the Chamber of Fate right now. I wanted to take the time to write down all that had happened to me so far, so that I won't forget.

* * *

30 April 1670 – Bowerstone Market

Bowerstone has changed so much since I was last here as a child, and not just the route to get here. The moment I emerged from the Cullis gate atop Hero Hill, I was attacked by still more giant beetles. I was unprepared for such an attack, and got my hair pulled several times by the nasty buggers.

Then Bowerstone Road was closed due to a bandit named Thag. Apparently he had been capturing traders on their way to the Gypsy Camp, and there weren't enough guards to deal with the problem. I took the guard's suggestion and killed him myself, rather than wait for them to muster the men. Theresa agreed with my decision and directed me to his camp.

A bunch of bandits soon proved to be no match for a Hero. My Will powers knocked them half-dead, even weak as they are, so I only had to beat them a few times with my sword or shoot them with my crossbow. Though I probably shouldn't think of it this way, it was a thoroughly _boring_ fight, little more of a challenge than the beetles, and I've been smacking those around since I was little.

Theresa was delayed in reaching Bowerstone – I can only assume that someone in the camp needed her aid. I have spent most of yesterday and some of last night working, as she suggested. My weapons could use to be upgraded, but the blacksmith is not yet open for business.

I am sitting on the steps of the clock tower, eating a sandwich I bought from the tavern keeper. His bar seems to do big business, no matter what day of the week it is. I watch his patrons and see their happiness at sharing pints with old friends, but I know that if I attempted to join them, I would not feel their joy. I have had little to feel joyful about since the death of my last family member.

Were Rose and I really sisters? I no longer remember, but that no longer matters.

Theresa has arrived. I will write more later.

* * *

The Tattered Spire. According to my blind seer guide, that is where Lucien is now. Let me see if I can recall her wording…

"The Spire was intended as a conduit for all the magic in the world, granting the Kingdom's ruler a power so great he could bend reality to his will. On the day it was completed, and the first wish made, a light bloomed inside, though its purpose could not have been darker.

"Albion shattered. Centuries of civilization were wiped out in moments, its people erased from existence. Some say that this _was_ the first wish: an end to a hollow and corrupt world – and for a purer one to take its place."

And now this infernal tower rises once more, by the hand of my enemy. I feel conflicted, even more so than ever before. If I stop Lucien before he completes the Spire, I will have followed through with my vow and avenged my sister's death. But if I wait, if I delay just long enough for the Spire to be completed… could I bring my sister back to life?

Thoughts for another time.

Theresa was right. Bowerstone Old Town has changed, and in more ways than one. Derek, the guard Rose and I helped when we were little, broke up Nicky the Nickname's gang after we returned his warrants to him – and if "Nicky the Nickname" isn't the stupidest name I've ever heard, I don't know what is. But because of that, Derek was named Sheriff and turned Old Town completely around – he said that Old Town is now one of the most desirable places to live. When I lived here, it was just a dump.

I've decided to hold off going to Oakfield for a little while, to browse the shops. Lucien's waited this long – he can wait a little longer.

* * *

3 May 1670 – Oakfield

I was right to wait in heading through Rookridge. Even during the day, it's a dump. Bandits and Hobbes everywhere – ugh, the Hobbes were the worst! This guy's kid had been kidnapped by the little blighters. Since the only way around the blown-up bridge (bandits) was through the Hobbe Cave, I offered to help him rescue his kid. Two birds with one stone and all that. But by the time we got to him, it was too late. I'd always thought that those stories about kids turning into Hobbes were just a bunch of old wives' tales, but now I know that at least that one is true.

I don't know what happened to that man. I had to leave him down in the cave when he passed out sobbing for his kid. I fought my way back out into the open air and made a break for Oakfield before those bandits could come after me.

This place really does deserve its title as "the lushest place in Albion." Even after dark, the place is still so green, and sunrise is beautiful here. The fields are peaceful and still in the early morning light. I can easily forget my troubles here.

I'm currently leaning against a tree a bit south of the Temple of Light. Since I arrived in Oakfield after midnight, I think it's only polite that I wait until a decent hour to call upon the abbot of the Temple. The sun should be high enough in a few hours. I'll take a nap until then.

* * *

The abbot seems like a nice enough man. He's just a concerned father, wanting to look out for his child. In that respect, he reminds me of the man from the Hobbe Cave. I need to get him to trust me if I'm going to find who the Pilgrim is, the Hero of Strength.

I went back to Oakfield's inn, the Sandgoose, to hear any gossip about quests I could take to get my name spread around. I met up with Barum while I was there – it was from him that Rose and I earned one of the gold pieces we used to buy the music box. Apparently, some bandits in Rookridge have been causing problems for one of his investments, rebuilding the bridge that the bandits blew up. With any luck, these won't be the same bandits.

* * *

6 May 1670 – Oakfield

Back in Oakfield. The bandit leader's name was Dash, and given the number of men at his command, he was the one who had the bridge destroyed. His boast about being the "fastest man in Albion" may have been true, but "you'll never catch me" was certainly not. My dog finally got him pinned up on some standing stones near his camp, and I shot him with my pistol.

Barnum was overjoyed, but so too was Oakfield. Because Rookridge borders the town and one of their main trade routes runs through it, the townsfolk had been suffering greatly. By the time I got back to the Sandgoose, the Bard was already singing my praises, and the gossips were all atwitter on every street corner.

I am damn tired from all this walking. I think I'll take a rest at the inn before I move on. A few more quests like that one, and I'll be sure to earn the abbot's favour.

* * *

8 May 1670 – Bowerstone

I don't know what to do. I'm beginning to regret ever taking this quest. It started out innocent enough, sort of – the ghost of a jilted lover wanting revenge on the man who left her at the altar. That seemed easy enough. In the Bower Lake Camp, there had been a fair few of both sides, and I had been witness to the fallout many times.

Following her instructions, I came back to Bowerstone to look for this "Alex." He seemed nice enough when I first met him, and he couldn't have been more than a year or two older than me. It was pretty easy to get him to fall in love with me. He seemed desperate for company, but then he admitted that he had simply gotten cold feet during the wedding because he thought that he and the ghost, Victoria, were too young to get married.

When I asked him why he simply didn't tell her this, he said that he thought she'd take it badly. Personally, I think she took "no explanation at all" _worse_ than "badly," but it's too late for that. What has been done, cannot be undone.

As much as a part of me wants to make him suffer for causing her to take her own life, I can see that he's making himself suffer far worse than I ever could. But do I really want to marry him? I mean, I've only just met him, and marriage is pretty much forever. I could divorce him later, but what if he winds up going the way of his ex-fiancée? I don't want to have innocent blood on my hands.

I guess I will marry him. I can grow to love him in time… I think.

* * *

19 May 1670 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Alex and I are now husband and wife. Victoria was happy for us – she said that she hadn't considered that Alex had suffered enough already, and then gave us her blessing.

This weird Demon Door opened for us when we walked past, looking at houses in Oakfield. Inside was a lovely place – the Serenity Farm, and man, is it serene. I suppose it's only fitting that such a perfect place for a married couple, is in the lushest region in Albion.

I proposed to him on the 9th of May, but a few things came up. We decided to delay the wedding a week or so, so that I could take care of it. I have not yet aided the Temple of Light monks in their Ritual – the abbot tells me that it will take place on the Summer Solstice, 21 June, a month away. Until then, I am free to do as I like.

Last night, I sat Alex down and told him about my past, about how I intend to kill Lucien, and about his dead love. He was glad to hear that Victoria was finally resting in peace. He also understood why I am doing what I'm doing and vowed to help my where he could. I also explained that I'm going to be away from home a lot. If he needs "satisfaction" while I'm gone, he's free to do as he likes, so long as he uses protection. He insisted that he would be faithful to me, so I just smiled and said, "You'll feel differently after a while."

* * *

28 May 1670 – Bower Lake

Slavers. Hate the lot of them. I mean, how can they _do_ that, take fellow men and women captive and sell them off like animals? How can they sleep at night? How can they live with what they've done? I don't know how they cope – are they just that insensitive?

I've killed people before, but their faces haunt my dreams, their expressions in their dying moments, their cries as the life bled out of them. I grieve for them, even those that deserve to die. Maybe especially them, because who else is there to mourn their passing? I wonder if they're punished for what they've done in life. I wonder if _we're_ punished for what _we_ do.

* * *

6 June 1670 – Oakfield

The solstice is getting closer! I can't wait to meet the Hero of Strength.

In the meantime, I've spent my time doing the odd bounty hunting job here and then, though I've tried to hang around Oakfield. The woodcutting and bartending jobs pay well, too, and I've got a tidy sum saved up for Alex while I go on my adventures.

We consummated our marriage not too long ago. It was as awkward as I expected – he was so obviously a virgin. I was, too, but I had been raised in a gypsy camp. I knew the facts of life, and I had seen people "do the nasty" many times – there never was much privacy in the Bower Lake Camp. But despite the awkwardness, we got through it successfully. We didn't use protection, though – I hope I'm not pregnant during the Ritual. I wouldn't want the baby to get hurt if something happens.

* * *

14 June 1670 – Fairfax Gardens

Castle Fairfax looks so different during the day. Sometimes I wonder if the sinister air it had that night was all a product of my imagination. It hadn't seemed so at the time, but looking back, the shadows seemed darker, deeper, the people less friendly. Jeeves, Lucien's butler, certainly didn't help, what with his "don't do this" and "address him as that." Honestly.

I initially came here to see if the castle is as abandoned as everyone says (it is), but I was surprised to see many of the nobles still holding court in the gardens. One of them – Belle Rennock – had a number of servants with her. At her direction, they were digging a large (and presently shallow) pit in one of the massive flowerbeds. It was as deep as my waist when last I looked, and about ten meters across at its widest point.

Yep, not much has changed in the past hour.

When I asked what she was doing, she said that she was researching one of the Old Kingdom's artefacts. Given what Lucien's doing in the Tattered Spire, I was leery of helping her, but doing so brings me the renown I know I'll need later. I've collected three scrolls for her so far, and none of it seems harmful. I guess I'll continue to lend a hand in the future.

* * *

20 June 1670 – Oakfield

The Ritual is tomorrow, but I can't seem to calm down enough to get the rest I know I'll need. Alex is home at the Serenity Farm, asleep in our bed. I made sure that I didn't wake him when I got up to take a walk.

Oakfield at night is still just as beautiful and peaceful as during the day. Instead of golden sunlight, silver moonbeams paint the fields and trees, softening edges and darkening shadows.

I hope all goes well tomorrow.

* * *

22 June 1670 – Temple of Light, Oakfield

The abbot is dead. One of Lucien's men killed him, before Sister Hannah smacked him with her war hammer.

Everything started out fine. I met up with her at dawn by the Wellspring Cave. I made sure my weapons were upgraded, and that my spells were at the highest level I could get them. If she was going to be there Hero of Strength, I needed to keep her alive at all costs.

Inside the cave, there were three rooms where we would collect the water for the Golden Oak. They were opened by three pressure pads, so that we could only go in a particular order. Going to the first room was easy – it was the coming back that was the problem. Malicious wisps started reanimating corpses on the stone bridge.

I quickly switched to my fire spell and started blasting away at them, using my sword where flames weren't enough. We made it back to the central chamber relatively unscathed. The route to the second chamber was shorter than the one to the first, but while Hannah was gathering the water, hollow men kept spawning and attacking her, forcing me to use my spells and gun to defend her from afar.

Then on the way to the third chamber, we wound up getting trapped in a room where wave after wave of hollow men spawned, followed by a headless one that could use Will lightning and Force Push. I managed to defeat it, but I had to use several potions to keep my health high.

And just when I thought it was all over, we were going to get the last of the holy water and get out of there, one of the monks comes darting in, calling for Hannah and shouting something about how one of Lucien's men had captured her father.

That caught my attention. Hannah dropped the jug containing the water we had so painstakingly collected even as we both ran toward the stone ramp leading up and out of the cave. As she passed it, she grabbed a massive war hammer from the hands of a stone statue. Weary as I was, I lagged behind while she sprinted back to the Temple, and by the time I caught up with her, it was already over.

The monks chose to plant the new Golden Oak over the abbot's grave. A fitting choice, I believe, that the sacrifices of the previous generation should aid the growth of future generations. The burial and planting was carried out yesterday. Now I am seated outside the central building of the Temple of Light, waiting for the monks to finish choosing a new abbot. I hope the new abbot is as wise and kind as the old.


	2. The Hero of Will

1 June 1670 – Bowerstone Cemetery

If it's not one thing, it's another. It seems like I've been running all over the countryside recently, slaying bandits and beetles, rescuing slaves, and now these idiots. One of them – or both of them – read aloud from the Normanomicon and summoned a hundred hollow men in Bowerstone Cemetery. _A hundred!_ I've yet to use as many Inferno spells in the rest of my quest combined! Thank Avo the flames take them out quickly.

I think when I return to those idiots, I'll make them undo the spell, then bash them both overhead with the book. Yes, that should do nicely.

* * *

4 July 1670 – Brightwood

Ran out of ink on the road yesterday. Went to the shop to buy some more, and found out that blue is now cheaper than black. Weird, but I'm not complaining. I like blue.

Theresa said that she had discovered a likely candidate for the Hero of Will – Garth, the name from Lucien's castle the night Rose died. At first I was suspicious, but Theresa explained that according to Lucien's diary (which I got from his old butler Jeeves – forgot to mention that), their partnership ended shortly before Lucien summoned my sister and me to his castle. They disagreed about what should be done with the artefacts of the Old Kingdom.

Apparently, after that, Garth returned to his home in Brightwood Tower. I'm headed there now to speak with him. Here's hoping I'm able to convince him to help!

* * *

Too late. Lucien had already sent men to capture Garth. I fought through all of his Spire guards with my blade, bullets, and blasts, but I was too slow.

When I reached the top of the Tower, my access had been cut off by flaming debris, along with one of Lucien's men. He was different from the others, with white skin, white eyes, and Spire shards driven into his skull. The shards also tipped his fingers like talons, and I'm sure there were more under his clothes. The Hero of Will called him "a freak, one of Lucien's failed experiments."

"You left too soon, Garth," the stranger continued, "Lord Lucien's experiment was a radical success." Then he shocked the Will-user into unconsciousness. The Shard that had been summoning soldiers spirited them both away before I could make myself known.

"There was nothing you could have done," Theresa told me, "That was Lucien's Commandant, and apparently he now controls a Shard, an Old Kingdom weapon of great power." She went on to say how Lucien's strength was growing fast, along with his control of the Spire and its "awful machinery." The Seer then told me to return to the Guild.

I am resting in the Tower right now, waiting for my healing potions to do their work. I don't think Garth is in any position to complain if I use his stuff.

* * *

7 July 1670 – Chamber of Fate

Further translation of Lucien's diary has revealed that he's recruiting people who win in this "Crucible" arena as guards in the Spire. "Physically tough but mentally weak" were Theresa's words. I wonder if the Commandant was once one of the winners? I'm not sure it matters. Either way, he is my enemy. Still, it would make it a lot easier to fight him if I knew he underwent that of his own volition, rather than being forced by Lucien.

Hammer and I will be heading to Westcliff soon, via the Bandit Coast near Brightwood. I swear to Avo, I've walked the length and breadth of this land more times than I can count. At least this time I'll have Hammer and her weapon alongside me. My dog is nice company, but he can't compare to real human conversation.

I asked Hammer about the Crucible before she went on ahead. Apparently there are eight rounds, and in each round you fight different opponents – Hobbes, bandits, Balverines, and the last one is supposed to be a _troll_. I hate trolls. I had to fight one to retrieve Lucien's diary, and let me tell you, I was _not_ a happy camper.

Before I go, I think I'll drop by Oakfield and visit Alex, because there's a good chance I might not make it back.

* * *

11 July 1670 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Alex was happy to see me. Considering the face that I was gone for a month, I'm not surprised. We had sex again, but it was just as awkward as the first time.

Though he was unhappy that I was going to be gone again, and for a long time, too (maybe), he vowed that he would be waiting for me. I warned him that it could be years before I came back, but he was still determined.

* * *

14 July 1670 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

I've been feeling sick lately, too sick to leave the farm. I fear that I'm pregnant. Yet as much as I want to move on and take Lucien down, I won't risk the life of my child for the sake of revenge. I may be driven, but I'm not _that_ driven. I'll send a message to Hammer to let her know I might be delayed.

* * *

20 July 1670 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Theresa came by with Hammer today, much to my surprise. The Seer confirmed that I am pregnant, and let me know that the child is a boy so that Alex and I can settle on a name. I like the sound of "Logan." I'll have to see what Alex thinks.

Hammer and I sparred a little under Theresa's watchful gaze. I didn't want to lose any more muscle than I've already lost, or will lose as the pregnancy progresses.

Unfortunately, being pregnant means I can no longer go on quests around Albion to earn money for myself and my family. I've worked as a woodcutter at one of Oakfield's farms before – I should be able to continue doing that until the size of my stomach becomes prohibitive. With any luck, I'll have even more money saved up, enough to where we can live comfortably even with neither of us working. I've bought a few shops and have money saved up from them, as well as the income I receive from their rent. I hope it'll be enough.

Theresa has just informed me that the barkeep at the Sandgoose would be willing to let me serve beer when I can no longer work on Oakfield's farms. It's better than nothing.

* * *

1 August 1670 – Oakfield

I'm not used to being confined to one area like this. I've only been doing it for a few months now (just three, but still), but I've gotten used to wandering the open road. I enjoyed going new places and meeting new people, but now that's all being put on hold for nine months.

Nine. Months.

I'm going to go stir-crazy if I stay here too long. I've already taken to walking around Oakfield in the early evening, before I work at the Sandgoose serving beer to the bar's patrons. I convinced Hammer to escort me to Bowerstone, so I could buy a cradle for Logan (Alex and I agreed on the name at last). We'll be leaving in a few days.

Theresa is staying in the Sandgoose while we're away. I offered to pay for both hers and Hammer's rooms for as long as the two of them wanted to stay, but she waved me off, saying that she had plenty of money. "Save it for yourself," she stated.

Kinda makes me wonder where she got all her gold, but who knows. She seems the same age now as she was when we first met ten years ago. She _has_ to be a lot older than she looks – maybe she's one of the Immortals and has had centuries to stockpile gold. Huh. Wonder if that's a trick I could learn?

* * *

5 August 1670 – Bowerstone Market

Ah, it feels so good to be on the move again. Bowerstone seems to be in better condition that I left it, but that could just be my imagination. It's been almost a month since I was here, after all.

Hammer and I looked at cradles and baby clothes briefly before the shops closed, though we didn't buy anything. A few things leapt out at me, but I need more time to haggle the price. We're going back tomorrow.

The Cow and Corset, the tavern/inn where we're staying, does hopping business after dark. The conversations create a low vibration in the wood that I can feel even through my boots when my feet touch the floor. Hammer went down to get a drink. I chose to stay in our room – I worried about what the alcohol would do to the baby. I'd never been much of a drinker, anyway. I can hardly bear to eat meat. I think once the baby is born, I'll go vegetarian. I'll have to eat a lot of beans and eggs to make up for the protein I'll be missing out on though. A small price to pay.

* * *

9 August 1670 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Home again. I'm a little mad at Hammer, though. On our way through Rookridge we ran into some bandits. Not entirely unexpected, because it's _Rookridge_. It's like the Bandit Coast – you don't go there expecting tea parties.

Anyway, when we ran across the bandits, Hammer tried to stop me from fighting. Dammit, I'm barely a month along, and I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I haven't even begun to show yet. If I can spend the day chopping wood, I can fight off a few bandits.

* * *

31 October 1670 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

My stomach's just started showing. When I tried to put on my pants this morning, they wouldn't fit properly. I need to buy new clothes, mostly dresses, so I don't have to worry about my expanding waistline.

* * *

13 November 1670 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Oakfield experienced its first snowfall of winter today. It was a light one that melted quickly when the sun came out, but I understand that this is unseasonably early for snow. This winter is going to be a harsh one.

I don't think Alex and I will be having that problem. The farm seems to be locked in an eternal warm spell, in that transitory period between spring and summer before it gets unbearably hot. I like it. I'm glad we found this place.

* * *

5 January 1671 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Life is too tedious write now for there to be anything worth writing about. Logan kicks at night, making it hard to sleep. Walking through the snow to work at the Sandgoose Inn is a good workout and has been helping to keep me from growing fat. I still practice with my sword, albeit carefully. I'm concerned about Logan's safety.

I'm also concerned about my family's safety. Alex barely knows how to use farm tools, much less any kind of weapon. If I get found out in the Spire, who's to say that Lucien won't send anyone after my family?

I need to see if I can convince Alex to move to Bowerstone for a time, for Logan's safety, if not his own.

* * *

25 March 1671 – Bowerstone Old Town

Made it to Bowerstone via carriage. I feel like a planet. I can hardly ever get comfortable, and Logan barely lets me sleep at night. It shouldn't be too much longer now.

* * *

3 April 1671 – Bowerstone Old Town

I'm in labour. Alex has gone to summon a midwife, but in the meantime, Hammer is helping me with Theresa's instructions. Logan is very much ready to be born. I pray there are no problems.

* * *

I am now the proud mother of a healthy baby boy. There was a brief moment of panic wherein he stopped breathing, but one swat from the midwife put that to rights. I have never yet heard a child wail so loudly.

For all that he was a hellion while I carried him, Logan's delivery went smoothly, so much so that the midwife commented on it. Perhaps it is because of my Heroic bloodline? I am unsure if it is worth investigating, or if there is any other material that I might use to investigate. Undoubtedly at some point, someone had to have gotten curious, but as to whether that information remains…

* * *

30 April 1671 – Bower Lake

At last, I'm on the road again! My body is healed up from childbirth. I've been taking a few small quests to build up my strength once more, but keeping close to Bowerstone so I can help Alex take care of Logan. He will not be fully weaned off my milk for some months yet, so I cannot afford to stray too far.

We plan to return to Oakfield soon. Hammer and I will clear the way, so that Alex can follow safely behind with Logan. I only hope it'll be enough.

* * *

2 May 1671 – Bowerstone Old Town

Leaving for Oakfield now. Prayers for safe passage.

* * *

4 May 1671 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Made it home safely, and without any major injuries. The worst one belonged to Hammer: a shallow gash on her temple from when she tripped over a rock. The Hero of Skill she is not.

Speaking of other Heroes, I hope Garth is okay. I don't like that it's taking so long to come to his aid, but it's kind of unavoidable. I'd at least like to see Logan's first birthday before setting off for the Spire. Am I allowed to be a little selfish in this?

* * *

5 May 1671 – Oakfield

Hammer and I dropped by the Temple today, to make a small donation as thanks for our safe return. Many of the monks were happy to see her, even if they don't necessarily agree with her new lifestyle choices. The monks were also happy to see our gold.

I left Hammer to visit awhile. I walked back to Oakfield proper, looking for a way to make some more money for my family. I'm sure I've got enough money saved up and invested for them to live frugally no matter how long I'm stuck in the Spire. It's not enough – I want them to live comfortably, without ever needing to cut back on anything unless it's because the market's supply has dwindled.

Oakfield Farm was hiring a woodcutter again. I picked up pretty much where I left off, and spend most of the day chopping logs for the family who lived there. They have a number of children who like to watch me work.

* * *

10 May 1671 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Hammer and Theresa have gone back to Bowerstone. I'm glad they came to visit, and I'm going to miss them a lot. I hope the Hero of Strength stays out of trouble while I'm not there to bail her out. Theresa tells me that she's taken to getting drunk in the Cow and Corset and starting fights with her fellow patrons.

It's going to be a while yet before I'm back on the road for real.

* * *

21 June 1671 – Oakfield

Watched another Ritual today. It was peaceful, not at all like the last one. I watched the monks pour the water from the Wellspring onto the seedling Golden Oak, Logan in my arms. The two monks who had gone into the cave hadn't encountered any hollow men, yet Hammer and I fought off hoards of them. Was it because of our Heroic blood?

I've successfully sworn off meat, finally, though I'm not willing to give up _all_ animal-related foods. The cook at the Sandgoose makes an amazing egg dish for the morning crowd. He's also a vegetarian, and has offered to teach me a number of dishes that he makes to keep things interesting.

I still cook meat for Alex, I just don't eat it myself.

* * *

3 April 1672 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

Logan's first birthday. I bought a small cake from the pie vendor in Bowerstone and brought it home to celebrate. He seemed happy, and made Alex and I laugh when he got icing all over his face.

I think this is the happiest I've been in a long time. I don't want to lose this.

* * *

9 August 1674 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

On the road again at last. I've been so restless for the past years that I feel like screaming with joy now. As a side note, I sort of lost this journal behind the dresser and only recently found it again as I was packing.

Alex is going to do a fine job of taking care of Logan while I'm gone, I'm sure of it.

* * *

11 August 1674 – Chamber of Fate

Hammer and I met up with Theresa today to see if anything new had come up about Lucien and the Tattered Spire. There wasn't anything much that she hadn't already told us, aside from the fact that all who entered had yet to return, but that was not entirely unexpected.

We're setting out for the Bandit Coast soon. Prayers to Avo that we don't encounter too many of the people that give it its name. Or the Balverines of Westcliff.

* * *

18 August 1674 – Westcliff Camp

Six straight days of fighting. _Six_. The moment Hammer and I made it to the tavern/inn, I rented us both rooms, and we promptly collapsed onto the sleeping mats. I didn't care if the mats were dirty or smelly or full of lice – I was just glad to have a bed where I didn't have to worry about _things_ attacking me in the night.

We both slept for a full twenty-four hours before finally waking, healed and well-rested. We're planning on scouting out the town, see what there is to see.

* * *

Hammer was right. This place is a dump. A dump with good weapons. I was able to get a nice katana, quick and with surprisingly high damage, for fairly cheap. It also had two augment slots, so I used my Ghoul and Golden Touch Augments on it. Nothing better than wailing on your opponents and getting healed and paid at the same time.

The Crucible is really the only thing seeing in Westcliff. We snuck in to see a contender. He went all the way through, but he and the troll in the eighth round killed one another. Shame, too – he seemed like a halfway decent person.

A few more days of rest, and I'll be ready to try my skills.

* * *

20 August 1674 – Westcliff Camp

I've done it. I beat the Crucible.

First round was beetles – boring. The second round was Hobbes –easy peasy. I used a level-2 Slow Time spell to give me time to build up for a level-5 Shock. Then I used a level-3 Blades to finish them off before going to a level-4 Raise Dead. From there I alternated between Shocking the Hobbes to death and beating on them with my sword.

The next round was much the same, albeit with my gun rather than my sword. With every wave, there were some of those suicide Hobbes that charged me and tried to blow me up. I had to take them out before they got close.

The fourth round was hollow men. I switched from a level-5 Shock to Inferno and began blasting away at them, hacking them apart with my katana when they got to close. They were easy enough to beat, easier than the Hobbes.

The fifth round was bandits. The stockade-like setup made it difficult for me to kill all of them at once, so my wide-area spells and gun came very much in handy. It also helped that the idiots tended to charge me with their swords aloft, making it easy for me to shoot them in the gut.

The sixth round was highwaymen – basically, bandit troop leaders, and just as dumb as the ones they lead. I'm not ashamed to say that I made good use of the traps in that round, using the flame traps to pick off people who thought it was a good idea to snipe me from afar.

The seventh round – Balverines. I am officially sick of Balverines and their Avo damned howling. Even now I can hear them, out in their "Howling Halls." It drives me crazy. I kept them at a distance, picking them off with my gun and more spells.

The last round was a rock troll. Avo, I hate trolls. It was a pain to kill, what with all the Hobbes that kept spawning with it. I've never used my Slow Time and Raise Dead spells so much in one fight. But, obviously, I finally killed it.

Now I'm on my way to the Spire.

* * *

28 August 1674 – Serenity Farm, Oakfield

I've come home to see Alex before I leave. On my way back, I saved the Temple of Light from the Shadow Worshippers who sought to corrupt the Wellspring of Light. Cornelius Grim was possessed by Shadow, but it was easy to beat him with my spells and gun. I didn't want to risk getting close to him in any way.

Logan was happy to see me as well. He toddled eagerly up to me once I stepped through the portal, calling, "Ma!" Alex seems to have been doing a good job of taking care of him on his own, for which I'm grateful. I don't know how long I'm going to spend in the Spire, or if I'll even make it out.

* * *

6 September 1674 – Westcliff

It's time. I'm reluctant to leave Albion for the Spire, even though I know it's another step on the path to defeating Lucien. But I've delayed as long as I dare.

* * *

10 September 1674 – en route to the Spire

Thank Avo I managed to sneak my journal onto the ship, despite the "no personal effects" rule. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I was unable to find some form of release for my emotions while in the Spire.

We're a few hours out from the harbour. As we grow closer to the Spire, there is – a sense of increasing pressure, a warping of the world, like a stone placed on a piece of fabric. The world bends under its weight.

I am afraid of it.

* * *

31 October 1674 – The Tattered Spire

It's been a while since I was able to find a moment of peace to write down my thoughts. Only a handful of weeks in, and I already want to leave, even though I'm no closer to rescuing Garth than I was when I arrived.

I saw Lucien on my first day. Garth was nowhere to be found at the time, but Lucien… Oh, how I wanted to kill him so badly. He was _right there_ , and yet I had no weapons save my Will to use against him. He had changed from what I remembered of him, grown old. His hair had gone from black to white, his face sagged with wrinkles. But his eyes, his eyes were the same – bright, fervent, filled with the madness of purpose.

He spoke to me and the other recruits about how he sought to change the world, using the Spire as an instrument of that change. We, as guards, would be the ones to help him make that dream a reality. Then he put us to sleep.

It's a miracle none of the guards found my journal while I slept. Perhaps Lucien magically converted our clothes into guard uniforms and shaved our heads? I don't know. What I do know is that when I woke, it was exactly where I left it.

I met the Commandant face-to-face after I woke. I was told by a fellow guard to report to him after I woke up from the enchanted sleep Lucien put me in. Along the way, I met up with another recruit, Bob, who came over on the same ship. He had been assigned to guard Garth. Despite his clear weakness, the Hero of Will was able to contact me mind-to-mind, not unlike what Theresa does with the Guild Seal. He told me that he knew who I was and why I had come, but it didn't matter. I had no power while wearing Lucien's control collar.

I moved on to the Commandant's quarters. He was a nasty piece of work, just as strange as I remembered him being atop Brightwood Tower. He still wears all black, and carries around a blade that I believe is the Maelstrom, a sword of unsurpassed evil.

He told me that I am "Recruit 273. That number is not random. It was assigned to you because I have broken 272 recruits before you. You are nothing more than the next link in the chain." He went on to explain that I had been brought he to oversee the reconstruction of the Tattered Spire and to serve Lucien as he saw fit.

I was tempted to ask if that included sexual favours, but I got the feeling that my humour would not be appreciated.

He continued with "My job is to ensure the obedience of guards like you. You will do everything I tell you, without question. Failure to do so will cause the device around your neck to activate. This is not a pleasant experience. You will lose your willpower. Your memories and experiences will be drained away. This will continue, until you submit.

"Perhaps you believe you will resist. Some do at first," he went on, "a misguided sense of personal honour. You must decide: is your honour _really_ that important to you?"

Of course I resisted. It was as painful as the Commandant said it would be and more, but I continued to resist anyway. The collar knocked me unconscious after it activated for the third time, but I did not bow. Right now, that's all I can do.

I've been doing nothing but guarding doors these past few weeks, doubtlessly because the Commandant doesn't trust me with anything bigger. There's always another guard there to keep an eye on me, and I dare not try anything with this collar on.

I hate being helpless.

* * *

10 November 1674 – Tattered Spire

I'm beginning to see what people mean by "an unloved task slows the passage of time." Two months I've been here, and it feels like an eternity.

I've only seen Garth in passing since I arrived. And I've felt the Commandant's gaze on me from afar, watching for any excuse to activate my collar or kill me, no doubt. It was a little unnerving at first, but I've gotten used to it by now.

The vast majority of the other guards are fairly uniform, in both appearance and personality. It makes for a very uninteresting job.

* * *

25 December 1674 – Spire

I wish I had written down descriptions of everyone – I've begun forgetting what they all look like. But I'm grateful that I was able to bring this journal with me – at least I'll never forget their names.

I wonder if the Commandant has a name? A real one, not just a title. Lucien's journals mentioned only the possibility of granting Will power to others, never the name of the one (or ones) upon whom he experimented. I wonder what he was like, what kind of man he was before Lucien changed him.

* * *

3 April 1675 – Spire

Happy 4th birthday, Logan. Theresa, Hammer, Alex, I miss you.

* * *

1 May 1675 – Spire

A new shipload of recruits was brought in today. Not much news from the mainland. It's pretty quiet out there.

Saw the Commandant today, in passing. I was surprised to find that I missed him. Aside from myself, Garth, and Lucien (who I never see), he's the only really "animate" person in the Spire. The guards and prisoners alike are so… flat. Linear. There's almost no deviation from one person to the next.

I hate it.

* * *

5 June 1675 – Spire

I was called to be a guard's temporary replacement in the detention centre yesterday. I may be a Spire guard, but I still try to be a good person – even though I was commanded not to, I still fed the poor prisoners until my collar knocked me out.

When I woke, the Commandant was looming over me, his white eyes narrowed. We stared at one another in silence for a long minute. Then I said, "Going to punish me, _sir_?"

The set of his face (what little I could see over his mask) changed from irritated to amused. "I have not yet decided, 273," he replied, "On one hand, you are being unforgivably disruptive. On the other, you are providing me with far more entertainment than all your fellow recruits combined." I got the impression that he was smirking at me. "Back to your post."

I heaved myself to my feet, managing to mostly suppress my groan of pain. I felt his eyes on my back as I limped away. It's strangely comforting to know he's around.

I'm beginning to think there's something wrong with me.

* * *

21 July 1675 – Spire

I got into a fight with another guard the other day. He was trying to beat a new recruit to death over something trivial. I may have accidentally tried to push him off the edge so that he'd fall to his death on the inside of the Spire. That made my collar activate, and stay active until I lost consciousness.

I came to on the floor of the Commandant's quarters. I saw the man himself out of the corner of my eye, seated on the steps. "Decided whether I'm more trouble than I'm worth yet?" I asked.

"You do good work," he answered, " _when_ you work. Can you read?"

I turned my head to give him a confused look.

"Answer the question."

"Yes."

"Can you write?"

"Yes. I don't see where this is going."

"I do," he responded, "After the most… _unfortunate_ demise of the previous one, I'm in need of a new assistant, one capable of reading the _atrocious_ handwriting of the officers when they submit reports. Your new task is to read them and summarize them – neatly. Am I clear?" The Commandant drummed his fingers threateningly on the Maelstrom.

"Crystal," I grunted.

And that's how I got stuck on desk duty. I don't really care; it gives me more time to write in this journal.

I was surprised at how muck paperwork there is in the Spire. There are reports coming and going daily: personnel logs, equipment records, materials acquisition… With that last one, it's mostly food and weapons, though some idiot did put in a request for a hooker from the mainland. I wanted to find the man and smack him. It got a snort out of the Commandant, though.

* * *

11 September 1675 – Spire

Today is the first anniversary of my arrival in the Spire. Out of all the recruits who arrived with me on that ship, I'm the only one who hasn't gone as flat as paper. Even Bob's forgotten about the mainland, and his wife "Lil." I worry about that man sometimes. Once, the Commandant let me off desk duty for a guard shift with him (Bob, not the C). He spent most of the time staring off into space, drooling a little bit.

I don't think he's going to get any better.

* * *

20 October 1675 – Spire

Last shipment of recruits for the year. Ice has begun forming on the Westcliff Harbour, so we're stuck with what we've got for now.

The officers' reports have been giving me killer headaches. I think that this is a far more effective means of torture than knives and thumbscrews. Unfortunately, I don't have time to teach them proper spelling and grammar to make my life easier.

Fuck you, C.

* * *

3 April 1676 – Spire

Happy 5th birthday, Logan. I love you.

* * *

13 June 1676 – Spire

The Commandant's gone back to the mainland of Albion for a time, in a Shard. I've been put back on guard duty, protecting one of the weapons' chambers. Unfortunately, I've had three others with me, so I haven't been able to steal any weapons.

I'm surprised at how quiet it's been in the Spire. Without the C here to make my life hell, it's been pretty boring.

* * *

20 June 1676 – Spire

The Commandant's back. Why am I happy about this?

* * *

11 September 1676 – Spire

Second anniversary of my arrival. I'm beginning to wonder exactly how long I have to spend here – in arms' reach of Lucien – in order to rescue Garth. Time slows to a crawl here.

* * *

3 April 1677 – Spire

Happy 6th birthday, Logan.

* * *

23 April 1677 – Spire

Now I remember why I hated the Commandant. I was on guard duty yesterday, nothing out of the norm – until one of the other guards came up and said that the C wanted to see me. I had learned to be wary of such summonses, as more often than not they heralded new and inventive ways to attempt to break my will for the Commandant's entertainment.

I was right to be wary.

Bob was there, too, face down on the floor of the Commandant's quarters. I froze the moment I saw him, acutely aware of the C turning to look at me.

"I believe you know this man," he said, calm as you please, "Guard Two-Six-Eight, I order you to be quiet." He descended the steps to stand about six feet from Bob. The poor man was babbling, repeating the words Lucien spoke to us when we first arrived. "Two-Six-Eight, _shut_ your _mouth_." When the nonsense continued, the Commandant turned to me. "Those who do not obey, _can_ be made to."

I was unsure how to take that. Lately, we had been – not necessarily friendly per se, but not overtly antagonistic.

"But those who cannot obey," he went on, "are useless. This – _half-wit_ – is beyond repair. But you…" C pulled out the extra sword he had that day, a fine steel cutlass, and held it out to me.

I realized right away that he wanted me to kill Bob. I took the cutlass and lashed out at him instead. In a heartbeat, as if he'd been expecting it, he drew the Maelstrom and blocked my attack. Then my collar activated. I jerked but kept my feet, then went in for another blow. Three times I tried, three times I failed.

At last, I could take no more. I was helpless, unable to do anything but watch as the C tortured Bob to death with Will lightning. Then he turned to me. Before I lost consciousness, he seized me by the throat and held me up so that we were face-to-face (or as much as possible with his mask in the way).

"Everyone has their breaking point," he growled, "and I _will_ find yours."

I lost consciousness shortly afterward, but when I transitioned into sleep… I dreamed. I dreamed that instead of that incident ending as it had in reality, the C shoved me up against one of the pillars in his quarters and took me savagely. I can't _really_ say "raped me" because in my dream, I didn't fight – and I enjoyed it. A lot.

What the hell is wrong with me?

* * *

17 May 1677 – Spire

Back on desk duty for the Commandant. I can hardly bear to look at him, because if I do, I remember my dream and I start getting aroused. Needless to say, it's making things more than a little awkward because I swear to Avo he knows. He's reading my mind, or he's finding some way to read this journal even though I have it on my person all the time.

I thought I was the only sane person in this place, and now even I'm starting to crack.

* * *

19 June 1677 – Spire

Had another dream last night. Variation on a theme, I suppose – the C had me bent over my desk. I don't understand why my mind finds him in any way attractive. I suppose if he had experience before becoming the Commandant GODDAMMIT.

* * *

23 July 1677 – Spire

I think it was the physical assertion that did it. Previously, when I disobeyed, I would only be punished with the collar. This time he used his own strength to dominate me (sort of).

I had no idea I was such a masochist.

* * *

11 September 1677 – Spire

Third anniversary of my arrival. The Commandant gave me the day off (WAY out of character for him – is he sick? Can he get sick?), so I've used the time to write and catch up on my sleep.

This has been nice. I wouldn't mind more time off. Back to the grind tomorrow.

* * *

20 September 1677 – Spire

Ran out of blue ink. Switching back to black. In other news, DAMMIT WHAT THE HELL WHY IS C SO ATTRACTIVE OH MY GOD DID I SERIOUSLY WRITE THAT DAMMIT WHAT THE HELL. Why can't I just be normal and stick with my husband?

Dammit, I had to flip back to remember what his name was. I hate this place. I hope I can bust Garth out soon.

* * *

3 April 1678 – Spire

Happy 7th, Logan.

* * *

8 June 1678 – Spire

I can't remember what grass looks like. I can't remember what trees look like. It feels like I've spent an eternity here with nothing but my own thoughts for company. I miss my family, I miss my friends, I miss Bowerstone and Oakfield and Brightwood.

I want to go home.

The Commandant's not helping. Why can't I have been normal? Why couldn't I have just forgotten about Lucien and lived my life with my family?

* * *

20 October 1678 – Spire

He knows. He _has_ to know, goddammit. What kind of Deus Ex Machina bullshit is this? I didn't actually see him do it, but I _felt_ him give me a once-over, and he certainly wasn't checking for weapons.

It's bad enough that I find him attractive for some inexplicable reason. Is it because he can take care of himself? So far, with the exceptions of Theresa, Hammer (for the most part), and (eventually, I'm sure) Garth, I've had to protect everyone I've met, even my own husband. C's a powerful warrior, I recognize that, and I'm sure he was just as capable before Lucien's experiments.

That makes me wonder about his ancestry. Does he, too, have Heroic blood in him? Is that why this experimentation worked on him? Does that make this incest, too, since we share the same ancestor? Though, if you follow the teachings of the Temple of Light, all people alive today are descended from one man and one woman, so technically every relationship is incest.

I'm not sure how I feel about that. I don't think I'll bring it up again.

* * *

25 December 1678 – Spire

I can't take this anymore. Actually, let me rephrase that. I don't WANT to take this anymore. I'm locked in a tower with the villain who killed my sister and his right hand mook whom I am mysteriously turned on by.

Fuck the universe, and everyone in it.

* * *

14 February 1679 – Spire

I have officially lost my mind. I did it. I slept with the Commandant. He was most definitely experienced, and it was every bit as rough yet pleasurable as I expected. Given the fact that it was the end of a very long dry spell for the both of us, neither of us lasted very long. In the first round. The second and third were considerably longer.

I have cheated on Alex three times in one day. I am officially the worst person ever. And I don't regret it at all.

The C had me up against the wall the first time, just like in my dream. Both of us were only undressed enough to do the job without leaving obvious stains behind. Even though my back aches from being pounded into unforgiving stone, it would have been worse without the padding of my uniform.

After that first round, he dragged me into his chambers – the real ones, where he sleeps. I didn't even know he slept at all until then. My hands were shaking so badly that it was a struggle to get my uniform off. I managed to kick off my pants and get my top open before he wrestled me onto the bed. I struggled reflexively, but he is superior in both height and weight and used both to keep me pinned.

The Commandant's Shard claws felt strange but good against my skin when he traced the muscle I've acquired over almost a decade of combat. He examined me intimately, cataloguing every scar and flaw, no doubt coming to his own conclusions about how they had been engraved into me. With my hands pinned to the mattress, there was little I could do but lie back and take it.

It felt even better this time around. It was a lot less about pursuing climax and a lot more about drawing out our pleasure. I had to keep biting my lips to keep quiet, no matter how much I'm sure he would have loved to hear me scream. And while I writhed like a whore under him, he watched like a creeper, though I heard him grunt occasionally when I spasmed around him. We climaxed one right after the other, him after me, and fell asleep a short while later.

The third time was when we woke during the night. I rolled onto my side to look at him, and once again he was watching me, his white eyes half-lidded. I felt sleepy and drugged when I rolled to straddle him. I stroked his member – just as long and thick as I'd imagined – to full hardness, then slipped forward and rode him until we both climaxed.

In the morning we both woke, dressed, and went back to our daily routines. Yet, everything had changed between us – I can hardly bear to be in the same room as him. This thing, this – whatever this is – it might have ruined whatever small peace bargain we've managed to strike. At the same time, I worry about it. This can't go anywhere – it won't go beyond the Spire. He won't come to live with me at the Serenity Farm, we won't have kids, he won't come with me to Oakfield on market days and test swords and pistols while I look at food. – I didn't even know that was in there.

Is it wrong of me to want that, though?

* * *

17 April 1679 – Spire

The Commandant and I had sex again. I find it very sad that I've been fucked by my enemy more times in these past few months than my husband in all our years of marriage. I also think it sad that I _prefer_ sex with said enemy to that with my husband. At least the Commandant knows his way around a woman. That kind of makes me again wonder what his life was like before Lucien's experiments.

I'm in his bed right now, watching him sleep. I won't say that he looks innocent, because he doesn't, but he _does_ look peaceful. He's not tense at all, and the lines on his face have faded.

Hm. He sleeps. I wonder if he dreams, too?

* * *

19 May 1679 – Spire

This is becoming something of its own routine. Once, sometimes even twice a week, we've been going to bed together, if only to deviate from the tedium of the Spire. It's grown taller in the past five years, and the list of its victims has grown longer. I still see Garth occasionally, but he's being moved deeper into the Spire soon.

How much longer am I going to be stuck here?

* * *

11 September 1679 – Spire

I've moved in with the Commandant. Sort of. We've been… in tune lately, only communicating with expressions and hand gestures. So when he arrived in the barracks earlier tonight and just gave me a look, I knew what he wanted. I gathered up what little I can still call my own and followed him to his chambers.

He'd made space for me in one of his chests; I stored my extra uniforms there, as well as this journal, at least for a while. I wasn't entirely certain of his plans.

The Commandant bedded me again, and for a while at least, the pleasure took my mind off what I was doing. I have already broken pretty much every vow I've ever made before I came here – I've lied, I've stolen, I've eaten meat (the meals here are horrible no matter what's in them), I've drunk alcohol (totally justified with the C), I've broken my wedding vows to my husband.

In this, at least, I won't lie: so far it's been worth it. The sex is _much_ better.

* * *

25 December 1679 – Spire

I just realized that the Commandant and I haven't been using protection all this time. Garth wasn't kidding when he said that time has no meaning here – I haven't been getting my monthly bleedings, either. No backbreaking cramps, no blood-soaked undergarments, no violent mood swings – thank heavens for small mercies.

If nothing else, I'm going to miss _that_ about the Spire when I leave.

* * *

30 July 1680 – Spire

An unexpected storm blew in from the sea today. The lookouts atop the Spire gave us a few hours warning, long enough to get everything battened down and cleared away.

I've spent most of today in the Commandant's bed, watching the rain fall beyond his windows. The tempest is worse inside the Spire than out; the wind seems to spiral down from the crown of the tower and blow outward once more through the sea corridor. The thunder echoes strangely in here, too, reverberating off the walls and sounding a hundred times louder than it actually is.

Because of the storm, the Spire's essentially been shut down. I saw one guard who'd left his barracks get picked up and thrown to his death by the wind. Going to have to tally everyone up after the storm passes to figure out who he was.

* * *

1 August 1680 – Spire

The storm is still raging. Both the Commandant and I can tell that it's weakening, though, slowly, but in the meantime, there hasn't been much to do with the Spire shut down. It's practically been a heroic feat just going to the mess hall to get food.

The Commandant and I have spent most of our time catching up on paperwork in between bouts of lovemaking. I'm still not sure if I'm using the correct term for "it" by calling it that, but whatever "it" is now, it's a lot gentler than plain fucking and has a bit more emotion in it than plain sex. It's been strange for the both of us.

What's also strange is that I am openly writing in this journal in front of him, and he's not doing a damn thing about it. He's just sitting at his desk, completely naked, and signing off on other paperwork. Here, at least, I don't mind admitting that he's attractive in his own way.

He's got more shards embedded in his spine, all the way down. Sometimes I cut my hands on them when I'm trying to get a grip on him.

* * *

14 February 1681 – Spire

It's been a full year since the Commandant and I began sleeping together. It's also been over a decade since I began this seemingly endless quest to get revenge on Lucien. I didn't even think about that last year.

Something's off, but not between me and the C. Every time I'm in his quarters, I get this chill, as if I'm walking over someone's grave. I don't like it.

* * *

25 May 1681 – Spire

The Commandant's going back to the mainland for a month. I'm not looking forward to sleeping alone in our room. I know he won't be gone long and there aren't many people back home who could take him on, but I've started to worry anyway.

When he left, I blurted out, "Be careful," before I could stop myself. I ducked my head when he turned to look at me.

"Worried?"

"A little," I admitted hesitantly, "I know you'll come back without a scratch, like you always do, but… I can't help but worry."

"Heh." He gripped my chin and made me look at him. "If you know I'll be fine, why worry?"

"I don't know. I never said it made sense."

He chuckled at me again, then yanked me forward into a kiss. It was the first real kiss we'd shared outside of sex, and both he and I completely disregarded the Spire guards around us in favour of it. "I'll come back," said the Commandant, "if only so I can fuck you again."

I gave him a look that said I was not impressed, though secretly I'm pleased he finds me attractive enough to say so.

"I'll be careful," he continued, "if you stay out of trouble."

"I won't make any promises."

* * *

26 May 1681 – Spire

Barely a day gone, and already the Spire feels empty. So does our bed. Is it wrong of me to miss him?

Yet, at the same time, his absence has presented me with the opportunity to help the prisoners of the Spire once again. But I found I'm not doing it for them, so much as I'm doing it for myself. I find that I'm hoping the Commandant will punish me when he returns.

Avo, I really had no idea I'm such a masochist.

* * *

10 June 1681 – Spire

I think I've figured out why our "relationship" thing works for the two of us, despite our conflicting ideologies. I'm always in control, always protecting people and fighting battles that they never could, so sometimes I just want to give that control up and obey orders for once. And for the C – as much as he runs the Spire, he's not really in control. He always has to take orders from Lucien, to bow and scrape even though it goes against his nature. So me submitting to him gives him a chance to have real control over someone and get some satisfaction out of it at the same time.

* * *

30 June 1681 – Spire

The Commandant returned five days ago, and he was _livid_. I was a little surprised, though – he dragged me to the torture chamber rather than activating my collar. It was a far more visceral form of this thing we do, and I found I liked it. Despite my enjoyment and my Heroic blood, I've spent the past three days in the infirmary because of his "tender attentions." It was good, though, damn good, and I'd say that he enjoyed it just as much as I did.

I passed out when I climaxed the last time, spread out on the rack, and when I woke up, he was standing next to my bed in the infirmary. I must have been drugged or something, because I grinned cheekily at him and said, "Welcome home, baby cakes. Did you have a nice trip?"

And he started laughing. Not snorts or a mirthless laugh, but real amusement. "Oh, _you_ ," he said, "Go back to sleep." As I settled back down into the blankets, I heard him say to one of the healers, "Make sure she heals fully before you even think of putting her back on the duty roster."

So he does care, at least a little.

* * *

11 September 1681 – Spire

Saw Garth today, finally. Whatever Lucien's doing to keep his Willpower suppressed isn't working – he's slowly but steadily gaining strength. The Commandant has to know, too, but he seems to be doing nothing about it. I wonder why?

Seventh anniversary of my arrival in the Spire. I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to spend here. I'm whiling my life away in this tower like a captive princess, waiting for something to happen, but at the same time I don't want to leave. Strange and twisted though it might be, I've built a life here, a "relationship." It'd kill me to leave the Commandant.

Some part of me just said, "It'd kill him, too." And I don't think it was speaking as metaphorically as I was.

* * *

17 July 1682 – Spire

William. William Blackthorne. That was the Commandant's name. He told it to me last night, as we drowsed in the aftermath of out lovemaking (still don't know if that's the correct term).

"William," he said suddenly, hesitantly, as if a real name was strange on his tongue. When I lifted my head to look at him, he clarified, sounding a little shocked, "That was my name. William Blackthorne."

I propped my head up on my hand. "At least you have a proper name," I told him, "I've always been 'Sparrow.'"

"What kind of a name is that?"

"Before… Before she was killed," I said, and Avo, it's been twenty plus years, but it's still hard to talk about it, "my elder sister used to call me 'little sparrow' and it stuck. I don't even remember what I was called before that." I rolled and folded my arms under my chin. "Do you remember what you did for a living?"

"I was an assassin, I think," the Commandant said slowly, "or a highwayman or something to that effect. I was hired to kill pretty regularly, with the occasional mercenary job on the side. I was paid to take out Lucien by some idiot nobleman with more gold than sense. I failed-" His voice was still bitter with the sting of defeat. "-but he kept me alive because he thought I 'might be _useful_.'"

I matched his bitter smile, then leaned in and kissed him. "Why tell me now?" I asked.

"I didn't remember until now," he murmured in response, "It's all still pretty hazy."

"At least it's something," I told him, "Everyone else here is flat as paper, and just as alike."

* * *

13 October 1682 – Spire

The chills I've been getting have gotten worse. I'm afraid of what they mean.

* * *

14 February 1683 – Spire

Three years. Still enjoying it.

* * *

16 April 1683 – Spire

Garth is getting stronger still. It won't be long now.

In other news, I've noticed aches starting all over my body, mostly centred on my lover back. I used to get awful cramps during my monthly bleedings (which were actually usually once every three months). I wonder if this is a sign that they're returning, that the Spire is releasing its hold on me.

* * *

27 June 1683 – Spire

My bleeding has returned. I'm pulling away from the Spire.

I don't want to go.

_I don't want to go._

I don't care about Lucien anymore. I don't care if he lives or dies. I don't care about my family on the mainland. I don't care about Theresa or Hammer or Garth… I want to stay here, in this fractured little fairy tale Will and I have built.

Why? Why does it have to be this way?

I can't bear to write anymore.

* * *

13 October 1684 – en route to Oakfield

It's done. It's over. I'm headed back to the mainland of Albion, but I can't call it home any longer. It's not home if he's not there.

Both the Commandant and I knew this day was coming. We knew it was here last night when we couldn't stop making love.

And then he sent me down to the work site. I could see it in his face, in his eyes – we both knew what awaited me there, and what awaited him when I emerged. But he sent me anyway. I took the gear from the guard Garth had killed and fought my way back up to my lover's chambers, where we spent to many days working toward Lucien's grand and glorious goal of "peace." A "new world."

The Commandant wasn't there when we arrived, but it didn't stay that way for long. He appeared, and blasted Garth with his Will lightning. Then without a word, he turned to me, drawing the Maelstrom and gesturing for me to come. I did, and drew my steel cutlass as more Will lightning cut off my escape.

The fight was mostly a blur to me, though some moments stood out in sharp relief in my mind.

The sound our blades made when they collided.

The kick of the pistol in my hand when I fired.

The feel of engaging in real combat for the first time in so long.

The smell of burning flesh as I ran him through with my superheated sword.

He crumpled under that blow, unable to fight anymore, and dragged me down with him. Garth was rejuvenated by the Will energy he released, but he remained silent as I crawled to my lover's side. The Commandant was still alive, but clearly only just holding on. He could barely focus on me. I didn't realize I was crying – had been for the entire battle – until he spoke.

"Don't cry for me, little Sparrow," he breathed, "I don't need your tears."

"I'm not crying," I said, wiping my face on my sleeve, "It's just… a localized rainstorm."

One of his hands pawed weakly at the breast of his coat. Then he grasped my wrist, and pushed something into my hand. "My Sparrow," he whispered, "Beautiful in joy and in sadness, in pleasure and in pain. Go. Your cage is open."

And then he was gone. His hands slipped from mine, but I had no time to see what he had given me. The alarms were still sounding, and we had to reach the port. I tucked his gift into a secure pocket in my uniform, and followed Garth through the Cullis gates to the docks.

My sword had been irreparably warped by the fireball spell I had channelled into it, and so I took up the Maelstrom in its place. It certainly lived up to its chaotic name and nature, cleaving easily through flesh and bone. I fought my way to a ship in the harbour, and boarded it with Garth and a handful of would-be new recruits. We sailed out before any more guards could try to stop us.

I suppose now is as good a time as any. What did the Commandant give me?...

Rings. Wedding rings – Will – I can't –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I ship it? I don't know. Why do I tend to love a lot of antagonists? See answer to question one.


	3. The Hero of Skill

31 October 1684 – Bloodstone

Ten years I’ve been gone. My son is a stranger to me. Alex – dead, but not before he left me for another woman. In a way, I’m glad he did it – it makes me feel less guilty about sleeping with the Commandant. I’m not glad he left Logan to be raised by Theresa and Hammer. I love the two of them to death, but they aren’t exactly top-notch parent material.

I met up with Hammer at the Rookridge Inn, after I got my old look back. She was happy to see me, and caught me up on all that’s happened (Note to self: still need to check up on Barnum). She said she might have information on who the third hero is, but needed to check a few more things before she was sure. Then she jogged off. I started walking towards the Guild to wait for her to get back.

I was browsing the market in Bowerstone when Theresa called for me. Hammer seems to think that the Hero of Skill is a pirate named Reaver. If the stories she’s heard are true, I’m inclined to agree. I haven’t gone up to his house yet, but he certainly does rule Bloodstone.

Unfortunately, the only way for us to get to Bloodstone was via a Cullis gate in Wraithmarsh. As the name implies, it was not a pleasant place. I had to fight through hoards of hollow men, two Banshees, and a troll. I still hate trolls.

Theresa told me that one of my ancestor’s graves was there – Brom. I saw it, but because of the dangerous environment, I couldn’t do more than pay my respects to him. She said he was the father of the Hero of Oakvale.

If the youth who destroyed Oakvale hadn’t done so, would I have grown up there? With the revolt against the Heroes Guild, I suspect not. Perhaps the destruction of Oakvale was the catalyst?

* * *

I don’t like Reaver. I _really_ don’t like Reaver. Despite the fact that he was posing for a sculpture of himself, he seemed perfectly willing to hit on me, completely ignoring the fact that I still carry the Maelstrom. He might not be as into blades as he is to guns, but he has to know what it is, right? Shouldn’t that make me at least a little intimidating? But maybe to him I just seem like an interesting new conquest.

In any case, I’m “not famous enough” for him. I need to do some more quests before he’ll talk.

* * *

15 November 1684 – Bloodstone

Back in the port. I took a ship to save some time, after completing a number of quests to raise my renown and slaying some assassins that Lucien has sent after me. I’ve been feeling nauseous lately, and I’m afraid of what that means. Yet at the same time, I’m desperate for it.

But enough about that. I’m going back to see Reaver.

* * *

Still don’t like him. Also don’t like this… thing… he gave me. It’s a seal, but it has this… _aura_ about it. I’m trying to avoid touching it too much.

Theresa said that the “Shadow Court” I am to deliver it to were the ones who destroyed Oakvale for the final time. I’m guessing that that means that Reaver is the youth who bargained for its destruction? If so, I need to be doubly wary of him.

Into Wraithmarsh I go.

* * *

18 November 1684 – Bloodstone

I’m going to kill Reaver. I swear I’m going to kill him.

The Shadow Court was just as creepy as I expected it to be, all ruins and corpses. As I moved down deeper, I realized that I could hear someone crying somewhere inside. I followed the sound, fighting off shadows whenever they attacked, but I have to say it – or at least write it.

I am pregnant. I know this because I almost puked my guts up during a fight. If it hadn’t been for my dog, I probably would have gotten killed. He attacked one of the shadows and dragged it away from me.

I’m a little worried. Theresa hasn’t said anything about it – is it that she can’t see the baby or what? I don’t want anything to happen to it, but at the same time I don’t want it to be born into a world where Lucien is still in power, like Logan was.

But anyway, I eventually reached the main chamber, when I found and ordinary girl. Like an _idiot_ , apparently she and some of her friends were reading from an old magic tome that wound up transporting her to the Shadow court.

Then the Shadow Judge and his groupies appeared. Reaver was indeed the one who struck a bargain with them, for pure vanity, I imagine: “One shall trade their youth and beauty, so the king of thieves may retain his.”

As much as I wanted to help the girl and bear the burden myself, I couldn’t afford to be old _and_ pregnant – a recipe for disaster in the making. I turned the seal over to her. Theresa said that I made the right choice, that I was young and strong, and that was what mattered most.

Now I need to see Reaver again.

* * *

22 November, 1684 – Oakfield

It’s over. Lucien’s dead, and my children are free.

Reaver was planning on betraying me, but Lucien turned the tables on him and attacked Bloodstone with his army. We escaped through a smuggling tunnel that linked up with his home and fought our way to the Smuggler’s Cove, where his ship was docked. Honestly, “the Reaver?” Ad just when I thought it wasn’t possible for him to get any more self-centred…

Lucien anticipated us. Hammer, Garth, Reaver, and I were attacked by a Great Shard that summoned waves of soldiers for us to fight until I finally blasted it apart with Will lightning. Reaver threatened to leave after that, but Theresa managed to recruit him to our cause by pointing out that if Lucien took over, he would have no one to sacrifice to Wraithmarsh.

My guide transported us all to Hero Hill. Reaver asked what Lucien wanted, and Hammer responded with a witty one-liner about power. I thought she had a point, but so did he – “Power is a means, not an end. What does he want to _do_?”

“When I knew him,” Garth answered, “he wanted to resurrect his family. Probably still does, but… Give a beggar a million gold, and he’ll buy food – until he’s full. Then he’ll realize that bread isn’t the only thing for sale.”

Then we began the ritual, and something happened. It’s hard to describe – it’s as if the ritual siphoned their power into me. I felt strong, invincible even. I still feel a shadow of that strength in me now. But when the light that blinded us faded… Theresa was gone. For a moment, I feared that the ritual had killed her – until Lucien arrived.

The man was still deluded into believing he could create a new world and be its king. Reaver tried to weasel his way out of getting captured yet again, but Lucien wouldn’t have it. His Great Shards transported all the other Heroes away while he spoke to me. “I should have gone out that night and found your body. But I was hasty. I let the bloodline flourish – and you _have_ flourished. It no longer matters. Your fortune-telling friend may have squirrelled away your son, but my men _will_ find him. Like you, he, too, will die.” He tried to shoot me, but my faithful dog took the bullet for me. “Pitiful creature,” Lucien said, as I cried my loyal pet’s name, “Misguided and weak. The last time I killed you, it tore my heart out. Of course, you were only a child. But then… so was I.”

His shot passed cleanly through my heart. But as my vision whited out, I couldn’t help but think, ‘Foolish old man. You should have gone for my stomach.’

I woke up, much to my own surprise, on the farm where Rose and I used to live with our parents. I had a hard time believing that it was real, but Rose insisted. She told me that there was a ton of stuff to do around the farm. I did the chores first – killing beetles, rounding up chickens – before I went onto the fun part – shooting bottles. I got all twenty before the sun went down. I guess even the sun sets in paradise.

I was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of music – music that I recognized, because I could never forget it. That was the song the music box played, the one Rose and I bought so many years ago. Ignoring my sister’s cries, I left the farm, but around the bend I stumbled on a path of horrors. Burning corpses riddled with blades and bullet holes, red skies and blood-tinted trees…

I forced myself to continue. At the end of the path was the box. I picked it up, and as I held it, I heard the echoes of people’s words to me from the past: Rose, Theresa, Lucien, Hammer, Mad-dog and Murray… the Commandant… the Shadow Judge, Reaver… and then Rose one last time: “You have passed the test. Your rewards are the opportunity to confront your enemy, and the means to destroy him. Take the box, and go to him.”

And then I was in the Spire. I appeared at the very end of the docks, looking up at the inner tower. The place seemed completely empty as I walked forward, but I spotted some Great Shards floating around. They ignored me. It wasn’t until I got closer to the inner tower that I started seeing the bodies. And then-

“So… that’s where it went…”

The Commandant – _my_ Commandant, not the half-baked weaklings Lucien had made after him – slumped against the dais where Lucien spoke to the new recruits. He had no less than four swords shoved into him and looked to be on his last legs – for real this time.

I have no idea how I moved so fast, but I suspect that there was magic involved. I was instantly at his side, kneeling next to him. He had changed little since I saw him last, Avo had it only been a month? Yet some changes were painfully obvious – more shards hammered into his skull, the blood pooling under him – the collar around his neck, the same obedience collar that guards like me wore under Lucien’s command.

“You _took_ my _sword_ ,” he panted, completely ignoring the fact that he was dying for real this time. My superheated sword had cauterized the wound and so prevented him from bleeding too much. Perhaps that was why he was able to return. But not this time. His life was creeping away with every heartbeat.

“You stole my heart,” I managed to get out, “I believed it a just trade.”

The Commandant let out a choked laugh, more blood staining his already sodden facemask. He tried to sit up straighter, but he was unable to do so without my help. But as it happened, the wedding bands he’d given me slipped out of my shirt. I’d taken to wearing them on a thong around my neck.

He rubbed them with his thumb. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he murmured. Then he chuckled. “Never thought I’d ever meet anyone I’d want to settle down with.”

I smiled sadly. “Nothing’s impossible.” I placed his hand on my stomach. For a moment, he appeared not to understand, then he pushed a bit of his Will power into me – and received a tiny, fluttering response. He coughed, blood welling up in his lungs, his white eyes wide with shock.

“I never thought…”

“I didn’t either.”

Will gripped my hand with the last of his strength. “Don’t let him win,” he growled, “Don’t let her grow up in a world that he rules.”

And then he was gone.

A daughter… a little girl. How did he know? The feel of his Will compared to her own? Compared to mine?

A girl. Our _baby_.

I removed my coat and draped it over him, then took up the Maelstrom once more. He’d acquired a Dragonstomper .48; I took that, too. I didn’t want Reaver getting a hold of it. Then I went up into the heart of the Spire.

Lucien was there, along with Hammer, Garth, and Reaver. The strange light that empowered me was also channelling into Lucien. The box was warm in my pack, so I took it out. It began sucking the light away from Lucien. He tried to stop me, but I would not relent, not now. Not this time. When at last all the light – all the magic – had been absorbed, I drew my lover’s pistol and shot him. He stumbled back, and fell off the edge of the platform.

I stared at the spot where he’d stood, barely able to comprehend that something I had dedicated twenty years of my life to was finally over. I continued staring until Theresa appeared. It was only then that I realized a short conversation had gone on without me. “Where’s Logan?” I demanded.

“Safe,” the Seer answered, “in the Chamber of Fate.”

That made me sigh in relief. Both of my children were safe.

Then Theresa drew me into the heart of the Spire. When she told me it would grant my wish, my thoughts immediately went to the Commandant. But he was finally at peace, as were Rose and my faithful dog. I couldn’t bring them back here, to this world of conflict and strife. And wealth was never an option.

So I chose sacrifice.

Then, one by one, the other Heroes left me. I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I was even a little glad I was left alone with my grief. None of them would truly understand, no matter how much they might have claimed to. I went and retrieved Logan form the Chamber of Fate and brought him home, to the Serenity Farm.

We’re watching the first snowfall right now. It’s a little late this year, especially considering how far north Oakfield is. It’s probably going to be a very warm winter.

* * *

16 January 1685 – Oakfield

The winter _was_ light, but I haven’t had much heart to write. I’ve temporarily moved the two of us to the Temple of Light, at least until I give birth.

Logan and I have been discussing names for his baby sister. I wish Will were here to give his opinion – more than likely in the form of disparaging comments about the flowery names we’ve been throwing around.

I finally spoke to Barnum and got my investment back, plus ten years of interest. So far buying up all the shops and houses in Albion has been a good idea – I have enough money from the rent I’m paid to live comfortably for the rest of my life and still have plenty left over to give to my children. But I think that for once I’m going to do something a little foolish. I’m going to buy Fairfax Castle. It’s fully stocked with everything I need – a comfortable place to raise my children, servants to feed them and look after them while I’m on the road…

Yes, I’ll buy the castle. I’m sure something will happen, some sort of attack there to give me a bit of a challenge.

* * *

31 January 1685 – Fairfax Castle

I was right about there being a challenge. Bandits infiltrated the castle via a secret passage in the library. They weren’t too terribly difficult to defeat, despite the fact that I was four months pregnant and their boss had limited Will powers. The only problem came when I was fighting in the Throne Room. One of the bandits went to kick me in the stomach, and I sacrificed killing him to protect my baby, curling over my stomach with the Maelstrom in hand.

But I didn’t have to. Gunshots rang out, and I heard the bandit’s body hit the ground, closely followed by several others. And then a voice, similar to one I knew but different, more human, spoke.

“Not only my _sword_ , but my _gun_ , too? Not Little Sparrow – more like Little _Thief_.”

I looked up. There was a man in a familiar black garb approaching me, stepping over corpses with careless disregard. He looked different, the clearest blue eyes and dark wavy hair, but still I knew him. The Spire had considered him to be one of those who died in its making, even though it had been complete before his passing.

“Come, Little Thief,” said the Commandant, “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally found a good way to end this story! Just goes to show that good ideas CAN come while you're in the shower.


End file.
